Half baked.

To be two when you were used to being one. To know that you will forever be incomplete without the other one. The songs float around you. Gently they remind you of the one that completes you. In stars. In skies. In trees and in familiar sounds. In flashbacks and remembered days gone by. She lives in them now. And in today, she haunts you even when she is right in front of you. And when she is not around, the days are half lived and you exist half dead.

The other half of your half baked self. The last piece of the jigsaw. Now all we have to do, kitten, is to find out how to best fit the pieces together.

And little muffin, from sunset to sunrise and horizon to the shore is the expanse of our love. Infinite, deep and unfathomable.